


A Hard Day's Knife

by HawthornSword



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Implied Tucker/Wash if you squint, Knife Throwing, Knives, Rivalry, implied Grif/Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornSword/pseuds/HawthornSword
Summary: Tucker stomped up to Felix where he was sitting on a crate near the practice range cleaning his guns.“Dude,” Tucker glared at him.“Yes, Tucker?” Felix said mildly.“You have to teach me to throw knives,” Tucker demanded. Felix blinked twice.“Why?”“Because the lieutenants will not stop going on about it! It’s all, bullseye at thirty feet this, and he saved my life that!”“What’s your point?” Felix asked.“Huh?”“What does me being awesome have to do with your inability to throw knives?"---Tucker is desperate to get Wash back, so he is giving this hard-working soldier thing an honest try.Grif is just tired of Felix giving orange a bad name.(Edited 02/17/21: same story, new summary description)
Kudos: 23





	A Hard Day's Knife

**Author's Note:**

> (Edited 02/17/21: same story, new summary description)
> 
> This is just an idea that bit me and wouldn't let go. It may or may not be integrated into my longer story Rebel Child at a later date. Cross-posted on fanfiction.net. Red Vs. Blue is property of Rooster Teeth, etc, etc.

Tucker stomped up to Felix where he was sitting on a crate near the practice range cleaning his guns.

“Dude,” Tucker glared at him.

“Yes, Tucker?” Felix said mildly.

“You have to teach me to throw knives,” Tucker demanded. Felix blinked twice.

“Why?” 

“Because the lieutenants _will not_ stop going on about it! It’s all, bullseye at thirty feet this, and he saved my life that!”

“What’s your point?” Felix asked.

“Huh?”

“What does me being _awesome_ have to do with your inability to throw knives?”

“Uh, _because_ it’s awesome, dude! You must pick up so many chicks with that skill!” Tucker insisted. Felix just blinked at him some more.

“... And also I want to use knife lessons as incentive if they do a good job in their training. Like a reward for good behavior or something. I dunno.”

“Is that what Wash did for you, Tucker? Rewards for good behavior?” Felix smirked.

“Dude, I wish.” Tucker rolled his eyes.

“Tucker, I don’t think you understand what this entails. Throwing knives as well as I do takes _years_ to master. Hours upon hours that _we don’t have_ to practice.

“So that’s why you haven’t taught anyone here how?” Tucker asked. “Because you said it yourself - you’ve been here for years. I would have thought -”

“Oh no, no,” Felix chuckled, cutting Tucker off. “I just didn’t want to. Training isn’t part of my deal with Kimball.”

“Okay, fine. You don’t want to train everyone. I get that. Neither do I most of the time. But you can train _me_ , and then I can train them. I’ll be an awesome student! I promise!” Tucker begged. Felix gave him a thoughtful look, then sighed.

“Fine. I suppose I could tolerate just you,” he said. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“Aww, yeah! You will not regret this dude!” Tucker pumped his fist in the air in excitement.

The next day, a small crowd had gathered by the time Tucker arrived at his agreed-upon lesson with Felix. The other captains were there, as well as their squads and a smattering of others. Tucker shifted uncomfortably at their eyes on him, the knife Felix had handed him dangling limply at his side.

“Aw, man. I didn’t realize word would get around so fast. I really didn’t want an audience.” 

“What’s the matter, Tucker? Can’t get it up when someone’s watching?” Felix snorted.

“Fuck you, I can always get it up. Bow chicka bow wow,” Tucker muttered moodily. “I just don’t wanna embarrass myself, dude. We’re here for morale as much as anything. We’re supposed to be heroes and all that shit.”

“I guess you should have thought of that before you decided you wanted to learn an incredibly challenging skill,” Felix said smugly. “Lie in the bed you made and all that. Now. Let that puppy fly so I can see what I’m working with here.”

Tucker sighed and took up the stance he usually held when he activated his sword. He brought up his arm and made the motion of throwing a few times, carefully aiming for the target in front of him. Then, he brought his arm back over his shoulder and heaved the knife forward with a grunt. It landed in the dirt a few feet away from the target. Felix bent in half, wheezing with laughter.

“Oh my god, Tucker. Wow. No, no, Tucker. I’m sorry. I just. That was _so_ bad,” Felix managed to huff out between bouts of cackling. There were some snickers from the audience that had gathered as well, but Tucker ignored them while he glowered at Felix. 

“You know what, Felix? Tucker snapped. “I think maybe you haven’t taught anyone this because you’re just a shit teacher.” Felix’s laughter was under control immediately, and he stood back up glaring at Tucker.

“I don’t _have_ to teach you anything,” he said cooly.

“Look, this is wasting _both_ our time, so just actually show me what I need to do. I didn’t come here to get laughed at. I’m ready to put in the fucking effort, man,” Tucker said.

Felix just rolled his eyes and pulled out another knife. The next hour was spent with Felix explaining lots of technical details in between landing flawless bullseyes. He only let Tucker even throw a knife a handful of times, and they were all terrible. The crowd had soon drifted away until only Caboose, Simmons, and Grif remained.

“You can do it, Tucker!” Caboose called out.

“I think he’s actually getting worse,” Simmons muttered to Grif as another blade hit the dirt. Grif said nothing, just watched. Actually, he had his helmet on, so he might have been sneaking a nap. Simmons let him. It helped with his stress levels. Grif really wasn’t taking the idea of Sarge being prisoner nearly as well as he pretended.

“All right. I think that’s enough embarrassment for one day, Tucker. We’ll try again tomorrow. I mean, I’m assuming you have a humiliation kink at this point,” Felix snickered as he gathered up his knives.

“Hey, fuck you asshole!” Tucker shouted at Felix’s back as the mercenary sauntered away.

“What a douchebag,” Grif muttered, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair as he came to stand beside Tucker.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, he really is a _terrible_ teacher,” Grif continued.

“Whatever dude,” Tucker said with a tired sigh. “I can’t deal with this right now.” Tucker trudged off, and Grif watched him with a thoughtful frown.

Over the next week, Tucker kept showing up to train with Felix, and he did improve. Barely. It was pure coincidence that he took a different route to the training grounds that day - his schedule had been thrown off by a meeting with Kimball.

So he came around a corner and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight he saw before him. He hadn’t seen much of Gold Team lately. Kimball had them running stealth training ever since she found out Grif had been having them raid the kitchens. But here they were, in a secluded back corner of the base, and _Gold Team_ was _throwing knives_. They weren’t great at it by any means, but they were notably better than Tucker.

“What the fuck?!” Tucker shouted. Matthews squeaked and dropped his blade. Bitters just gave Tucker a casual glance and kept practicing.

“What are you doing?” Tucker demanded.

“Practicing, sir!” Matthews said eagerly.

“Who taught you this? Felix?”

“Umm….” Matthews shifted nervously.

“That’s classified, sir,” Bitters said. “We’ve been ordered not to mention it to anyone.”

“Ugh, that _asshole!_ ” Tucker growled. He didn’t spare them another glance, just stormed off. 

He was worse than usual in his lesson with Felix that day, unable to calm down enough to focus.

“What’s wrong, Tucker?” Felix asked. He sounded like he was attempting to sound patient and failing. “You’re more high strung than usual.”

“You. You’re what’s wrong.”

“What did _I_ do?” Felix asked innocently.

“I thought you said you weren’t willing to train anyone to use knives but me.”

“Yyeeeah,” Felix drew the word out slowly.

“So then what the hell is Gold Team doing?”

“Uh, it’s _Orange Team_ , dude,” Grif called from the crate he was lounging on. “I’ve told you this.” 

Grif was the only one who still consistently showed up to watch Tucker’s lessons. At first, Tucker thought Grif was there to mock him, but Grif never said a word, simply showed up without fail and watched quietly, sometimes with a snack.

“You’ve been teaching them behind my back, haven’t you?” Tucker demanded of Felix, ignoring Grif.

“No. I haven’t,” Felix said. Tucker paused. Felix sounded genuinely confused.

“I hope not,” Grif said with a snort. "It would ruin all the hard work I’ve put into them.”

“Oh, bullshit Grif. You’ve never worked hard a day in your life,” Tucker snapped, finally glancing over toward the orange captain. Tucker did a double-take. Grif was sitting on his crate like usual, but he was casually flipping a knife in the air and catching it in a hypnotizing rhythm. 

“I’m serious, Tucker. It’s a good thing Felix isn’t in charge of training. The entire New Republic would be dead already if he were.”

“Excuse me?” Felix snapped - shocked and offended. “You think could do better?”

“I have,” he said. His tone was casual, but when he looked at Tucker his eyes were harder than usual. “I told you the first day, Tucker. Felix is a genuinely terrible teacher.”

Grif let out a low whistle then, and his entire squad melted out of the shadows.

“Show ‘em how it’s done Orange Team,” Grif called over his shoulder. One by one they threw knives at the targets, and while they weren’t all good throws they were, again, still better than Tucker’s. 

Grif’s whistle had drawn some attention, and others were gathering like they had the first day. Grif’s squad melted back into the growing crowd so seamlessly they were eerie.

“Okay hotshot,” Felix hissed haughtily. “If you’re so good at it, come over here and show me.

Grif stood slowly and stretched like a lazy cat before lumbering up next to Felix and looking down at him. Tucker forgot sometimes how _big_ Grif was. Although he was only five foot ten, he was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested and three hundred pounds. And a lot more of that was muscle than he let anyone believe. The fat was just camouflage. 

Tucker had once seen Grif carry Simmons on his back all the way across the canyon in a round of capture the flag when Simmons had twisted an ankle - and that was _after_ Simmons had the heavy cyborg parts. Grif really wasn’t one for the whole intimidation thing, but the dude could _loom_ when he wanted to. Even in armor, Grif made Felix look _tiny._

Tucker could only stand transfixed in shock as Grif pulled out a whole set of knives from seemingly _nowhere_ and started flipping one casually in the air again. He just stared at Felix, waiting.

Finally, Felix snarled and threw one of his own knives at the target. It was a perfect bullseye, of course. Grif’s knife followed almost before Felix’s had struck, wedging into the bullseye next to Felix’s. Tucker’s jaw dropped.

What followed was one of the most bizarre experiences of Tucker’s life - and he had given birth to an alien. Again and again, Felix and Grif threw their knives, each one wedging in tightly next to one another in the bullseyes of the targets. Tucker was used to Felix - he had all the grace and aggression of a deadly predator. But Grif made it look _easy_ standing there in his same lazy slouch as always.

With each knife of Grif’s, Felix got angrier until at last one of his knives went just a tiny bit wide, leaving a gap between it and the rest of the cluster. Grif threw once more, and his knife lodged in a way that had Felix’s clattering to the ground.

“Oh my god, it’s just like Robin Hood,” someone whispered from the crowd.

“You know what - fine. _Fine!_ ” Felix snarled. “Clearly, you don’t need me to train Tucker. Grif is right here. Don’t waste any more of my time!” He stormed over and began pulling his knives from the targets. Tucker watched the man quiver with rage for a moment before turning back when he heard some excited oohs and ahhs.

Grif was now juggling three more knives. _Juggling_. And then he threw once more in quick succession - one, two, three - into the target that Felix had only barely stepped away from. Felix actually _flinched_ before shooting a deadly glare at Grif and storming away. Tucker glanced back at Grif in time to see a mean smirk just in the corner of his mouth. Back in the audience, there were a few gasps and even some clapping.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!” Grif said, spinning around and bowing. “I’ll be here all war.”

“That - was the hottest thing I have _ever seen,_ ” Simmons said in a fervent whisper.

“ _So_ hot,” Simmons’ squad of girls said behind him. When Grif winked in their direction, Tucker was honestly not sure if it was at Simmons or the girls. They all blushed.

“Dude!” Tucker shouted. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talkin’ about! What even! Where did you learn that?!”

“I thought Kai told you our mom was in the circus,” Grif said.

“I thought she was joking!” Tucker’s arms flailed wildly.

“Nah, man. When you live around carnies you pick this stuff up.”

“Holy shit, dude. _Awesome_.”

“It really isn’t useful if you can’t throw hard enough to penetrate the armor,” Grif said with a shrug as he went to gather his own knives.

“Oh, I”m gonna be _doing_ some penetrating. Bow chicka bow wow! Now, show me how to do this right!”

“Ugh, fine. But only because Felix is a huge tool. I can’t have him giving orange a bad name.”

xxx

Miles away in FAC territory, Locus stared at the message that had just popped up on his HUD. He looked over to where Kaikaina was napping, bare feet propped up on the edge of the roof parapet. He should tell her to move her feet. She was far too easy to spot for his taste, and he didn’t like anyone knowing where he was when he wasn’t running missions for Doyle. He hadn’t told Kaikaina where any of his sniper nests were. She just had the uncanny ability to find them all.

“Kaikaina,” he rumbled at her.

“Mmm?” she answered sleepily.

“I think we should redouble our efforts to locate your brother.” 

She was fully awake in an instant, staring at him with wide eyes. Locus wondered how often she faked that, or if she was actually able to wake up that fast.

“Why? What happened? Did you get news?” she demanded.

“You … could say that,” Locus answered. He looked back at the message blinking on his HUD.

_Felix: You will not believe the fucking day I have had. My fantasies of how this is all going to end are all that get me through._

_Felix: Are you listening? Because I’ve decided something. This is important for my continued happiness and well being, so you should take it seriously._

_Felix: I am going to kill Dexter Grif first, and I am going to enjoy it._


End file.
